Make Us Suffer
by shadowparrade
Summary: Two years ago, a burglar broke into Castiel Novak's house, ending the life of his husband and also the life that Castiel had once known. He decided that now its time to move on, get back in the game-but no one feels right. That is, until he meets one green-eyed man, who helps him move on and build a new life.
1. Chapter One

It'd been a while since he'd went out on a real date. After losing his husband, Castiel just.. didn't see a point to it. _Gosh, has it been that long already?_ It felt like he'd passed just yesterday. He'd never been more terrified in his entire life than he had then.

Now was different, though. He was ready to start again-so, he'd found himself a date, determined to get back into the game even if he still didn't feel ready. He figured he'd have to get over it sometime, might as well do it sooner than later, save himself from more sorrow.

His name was Balthazar. Castiel had met him while out at the grocery store, he'd managed to knock over an entire shelf of canned beans and Balthazar had been near by, and decided to help him out. And well.. he was cute, and friendly, so Castiel had given him his number. Now he had a date to go on tonight, so he supposed the English man had liked him well enough.

He was nervous, to say the least. It felt like his mind was in overdrive, he was over thinking every little thing, and oh _god his hair wasn't cooperating_ but hey, when he'd met Balthazar it hadn't been tidy. Maybe he liked it then? No, no, he didn't look at him enough to pay attention to his hair, surely. But what if he had? Castiel frowned at the mirror, his reflection only deepening it. God. How was he supposed to do this? It had been forever since he'd had to go on a date.

Deciding to just put a bit of gel in the front of his hair, Castiel did so, afterwards rushing to find something to wear. He knew he should have picked it out earlier; he only had fifteen minutes to make it to the goddamn restaurant! If he lived any farther away, he would have just called Balthazar right now and called the whole thing off. The frazzled man found a nice white button-up shirt to wear, along with some plain black pants. In his own opinion, this was one of his best outfits. It suited him well, fit nicely, all that good stuff that he _really _didn't have time to think about right now because he only had ten minutes left and-

_Stop._ Castiel stopped moving, stopped rushing, instead he just stood in silence, taking a few deep breaths before calmly walking out into the living room. After putting on his shoes and grabbing his cellphone and keys, he walked outside, only sparing a glance back at the little house as he went to get into his car. His husband had picked the house out, for the most part, it was in a nice area and the house was decent enough. Three bedrooms, two bathrooms, enough for the family they'd wanted to start. It just felt cold and empty anymore, thus the reason he hardly ever left his own room.

He started the car, a Prius unfortunately, and was then on his way to the restaurant. It was a very nice place, an Italian restaurant that had the best sodas. Which sure, wasn't the point of tonight, but he was definitely getting a vanilla Italian soda whether the date went well or not. He'd been there once or twice, and he'd always liked it then, so he supposed there wasn't a whole lot that could go wrong food-wise. Date-wise... ugh. He turned on some music, deciding he'd rather not think about what could go wrong at the moment, and drowned out his thoughts in the sound.

It wasn't even that he feared Balthazar wouldn't like him. Castiel knew that he was a very attractive man, and somehow people always seemed to like him, even though he never understood why. It was just that.. he didn't know how he'd feel about Balthazar. Or anyone really. He didn't feel ready for this but at the same time he didn't want to wait any longer. He supposed he'd just have to go through with it then.

When he pulled up in the parking lot, it was safe to say he was terrified. His blue eyes were wide, his heart was racing, god, even his palms were sweating-how was he _supposed_ to feel as he watched his date be shoved, struggling into a police car and then be taken away?

Castiel let out a long, deep sigh, closing his eyes and slowly going to rest his head against the steering wheel. It wasn't meant to be, then. He'd just try again and hope the police had nothing to do with his next date.


	2. Chapter Two

Castiel had stayed home for about a day and a half after the "date," letting himself wallow in self pity and watch cheesy romantic comedies on TV the whole time. While eating ice cream? Yeah. Out of the container? Yep. He was going all the way with this sorrow thing. He hadn't even left the couch, damn it, he'd brought blankets out there and just slept on it. The only food he ate was the damn ice cream.

By the evening of the second day, though, he was done with it. His stomach was growling angrily at him, making him roll his eyes even though he was probably the dumb one here, not his stomach. He rolled off the couch and onto the floor, ignoring the sharp pain his hipbones were greeted with and instead standing up, grabbing the empty ice cream container and taking it to the kitchen. There he of course threw it into the trash can, going on afterwards to open the refrigerator. Goddamnit, where was a date when he needed one? Next time he was just going to have them come over here, claim he was going to make dinner for them, but in reality he'd just convince _them_ to do it. Yeah, that's what he'd do.

Hopefully they wouldn't be some sort of criminal of any kind, though. He'd seen Balthazar on the news this morning, apparently he was some sort of serial killer that worked for an even _bigger_ serial killer, or something along those lines. He hadn't caught much of it as he'd been staring down at the melting ice cream.

Deciding to just make some canned soup, Castiel turned on the oven, getting a pan and pouring the soup into it before putting it onto the heat. He hated eating canned soup. He didn't regret it though, this was still part of his own personal pity-party, and while he was done with moping on the couch, he wasn't done with moping completely. No, his lips would be stuck in a pout all day, as far as he knew, his eyebrows would forever be furrowed, his eyes always squinted in almost-disgust. Well, maybe not always, mainly just because the soup looked really gross in that pan, just cooking away. It was tomato, but a very dark tomato soup, as it had many other spices and flavorings in it. So this of course led to the fact that it looked like blood, sizzling away in the pan. But hey, he picked the high-end, expensive soups. Maybe he didn't like eating them, but they certainly looked better in his pantry than really cheap soups with the cans dented in.

He ate the dark red soup soon enough, finishing it quickly even though his tongue hated him for it, the whole thing burnt as hell and yeah that was enough of soup for a very long time. In fact about half-way through he'd stood from his place at the table, taking his bowl back to the kitchen and pouring the soup down the sink. Some people warned him about pouring very hot liquids down the drain, but he didn't give a damn. The pity-party-goers didn't need to care about pipes in the sink.

It was about then that the phone rang, the home phone of course as he had no friends, so Castiel set the empty bowl down in the sink, going to grab the phone from the counter. But really, who the hell could it be? His husband hadn't had much of a life either, and neither of their co-workers had ever tried to contact them.

"Hello?" Castiel got out, his throat still recovering from the burning soup.

"Hello, may I speak to Alfred Novak?"

He narrowed his eyes, hearing the name of his dead husband really wasn't something he wanted to do right now. But he had gotten a lot better about it, it had been two years after all, and a lot of people had known Alfred. They just had never tried to contact him or hang out or anything.

"To whom am I speaking?"

"Um, his _brother?_"

Ah, that made sense. Castiel couldn't help but sigh, eyes closing in annoyance. Alfred's brother was named Gabriel. He'd always been very annoying, trying to antagonize him at any chance. Why? Because he'd married his brother, of course, and apparently that was the highest offense he could possibly do.

Anyway, when Alfred had passed, Gabriel.. went crazy, to put it simply. He was delusional, he claimed to see his brother, talk to him, and occasionally called their house asking for him even though part of his mind probably knew he wouldn't reach him. He blamed Alfred's death on Castiel, so sometimes he wondered if Gabriel actually only called to get to him. He wouldn't put it past him, after all.

"Goodbye, Gabriel."

"Don't hang up that phone, you bastard. Let me speak to my brother."

"I said _goodbye,_ Gabriel."

The other end was silent for a few moments, before Gabriel muttered out a few curses at Castiel and hung up the phone. Castiel went to set the phone down, walking into his bedroom after that. Gabriel had always claimed that Castiel wasn't actually Alfred's husband, that he was somehow the _twin_ (evil twin, as he'd put it) of Alfred's _real_ husband, and he was just here to bring about his destruction. Which, after his death, Gabriel had been one-hundred-percent convinced that he was right.

Castiel had tried to ignore his conspiracies, for the most part. They had only ever made him feel overly possessive over his husband and angry about someone thinking he'd bring destruction to the man he loved so much. He'd married him fifteen years ago, goddamnit, he'd wore the silver wedding ring ever since he got it. Up until last night, that is. He figured it wouldn't make a good impression on someone if he showed up to a date with a wedding ring. So he'd put it on a necklace, and wore it under his shirt.

He let himself fall face-first onto his bed, the bed that felt so empty now without Alfred next to him. He was thinking about it too much again-he wanted to get past this.

But not today. Today he would let himself have this sorrow, let himself drown in these thoughts, because the day hadn't started off well and he figured it wouldn't end well, either. So he turned all of the lights off, got under the blankets, and slept the day away-or, he would have, at least, if his cellphone wouldn't have started ringing on the nightstand.

He supposed, after answering the call and talking for almost an hour, that the day didn't have to end so badly after all. He'd found another date, of course, they were going to go out for lunch tomorrow. How, he had no idea, but apparently he'd given out his phone number a lot more than he'd thought.


	3. Chapter Three

"Shit. I look like shit." Came Castiel's critical review as he stared into the mirror, getting ready for a date yet again. He didn't want to put too much work into it, in case it turned out to be some kind of criminal again and the date never actually happened, but what if he was hot? Or.. maybe it was a she. He hadn't paid too much attention to the voice last night, which he found himself regretting now but he didn't exactly want to call them back just to ask.

Besides, if it was a woman, he'd deal with it. It wasn't like he wasn't attrac-okay yeah he wasn't. He wasn't attracted to women in the slightest. Not that he hated women or anything, god no, he simply didn't want to be in a relationship with one, he just.. wasn't interested. He'd come to terms with that in high school and he didn't want to find himself settled down with someone who he didn't actually love-they both deserved a person that loved them completely and totally, and would give up anything for them. He couldn't do that for someone if he didn't love them completely.

_Shit better be in style by the time I'm out the door, because there's no way I'm fixing this._ He sent a glare to the mirror, directed at his hair in particular. It was messy yet again, unable to be tamed by weak little things like gel. No, his hair was like some invincible dragon, with habits that couldn't be broken, and those habits happened to be sticking up straight yet all over the place at the same time.

With one last sigh, he left the bathroom, turning off the lights as he went by. At least he wouldn't be late this time, he was actually dressed and ready to go (besides his hair, damn it) already. He quickly got his keys as well as cellphone, and left the house soon enough, driving his damn Prius to his damn blind date of sort.

When he arrived at the little diner, the place they'd set for their date, he noticed quite a variety of cars in the parking lot. There was a hot pink mini van on one end, a few actually normal looking cars in the middle, then of course and older car, probably.. oh, yeah, an Impala. It was a shiny black, and actually it looked very cool in Castiel's opinion, and he definitely wouldn't mind stealing it and leaving the Prius for whoever owned the Impala. Not a fair trade, but nothing was fair, was it? Especially not having a Prius when there were other people in the world who owned _nice_ cars, like that Impala.

He ended up parking two spaces away from the Chevy Impala, all the while casting longing glances at the car and hateful ones at his own. It was okay to be jealous, right? But hey, maybe that belonged to his date. If so, he'd have no problem going home with them, just to freaking ride in their car. He figured it was better to take his mind off of that though-he needed to go in there, meet his date, and hopefully like them.

Walking inside, a bell rang above the door, causing a few heads to turn and look at him. And damn, he wished he had spent a few extra minutes fixing his hair now, because he hadn't been expecting attention like this. Castiel cast a glance of his own around, looking for anyone who looked as though they were waiting for someone or just.. _something._ No one kept their eyes on him for long though, and after he noticed that most of them were already with someone, he directed himself over to the bar-like counter and sat down on one of the stools.

To his right was an old man, his gray hair grown out to his lower back and tied in a ponytail. And honestly, if it wasn't for the dirt smudged on his face, he'd actually be pretty stylish. To his left was.. oh hot damn, a rather handsome man, eating a slice of cherry pie. Castiel really wasn't meaning to be rude, but he couldn't really tear his gaze away from the man, his short dirty blond hair, his freckled cheeks. He was wearing a nice leather jacket, and even though the old man wasn't quite there, this man to his left was _definitely_ stylish. And effortlessly, it appeared.

"Uh," Castiel really hadn't mean to make a sound, but apparently he had, and now green eyes were staring right back at him and whoa. That was really green.

"Yes?" The man questioned.

"Oh, uh, nothing. Sorry. I just.. hi." Castiel knew that his cheeks had to be pink now, but smiled nonetheless, and extended his hand out to the man.

"I'm Castiel."

The green-eyed stranger raised an eyebrow, staring at his hand for a moment before looking back to Castiel. Castiel was actually beginning to doubt himself, to take his hand back when the man's closed over his own, shaking it.

"Dean."

Dean took his hand back before Castiel, who brought his own hand back to his side soon after. Man, this Dean guy had nice hands. They were calloused, enough that it seemed like they should be rough, but instead they were soft. And cold, which could definitely be cured by keeping their hands together longer but he figured that was kind of out of the question.

And since when did he want to just hold hands with a stranger, anyway?

"How is the pie?" He decided to ask, directing his gaze at the last few bites of pie left on Dean's plate.

"Freaking awesome, of course. It's pie, dude."

Well that was true. Castiel wasn't a huge pie lover but he certainly appreciated the dessert.

"True."

They sat in silence for a few more minutes, and Castiel actually thought that Dean was done speaking to him, but of course as the thought entered his head it was dispelled as he heard the other man speak again, his pie finished.

"So you come here often?"

Oh, he had to laugh at that, the corners of his mouth curling up in a smirk as he did so.

"Um, no. First time here actually."

"Ah. What's the occasion?"

He wasn't really sure what to say. "Oh, I came here on a blind date because someone called me right before I fell asleep!" Maybe he'd just lie, and say that he'd seen the place a few times while walking around and decided to come try it. He hadn't and wasn't going to order anything though, so that'd be easy to see through, he supposed.

The truth it was, then.

"I.. actually I was supposed to be meeting someone here, but.. they aren't here, so."

It was Dean's turn to laugh then, his chuckle making him smile as well and it was a very nice smile he had.

"Dude, you got stood up."

"What? No, they.. probably got the time wrong."

"No no, I think they knew the time. You totally got stood up. Trust me, I can tell."

Castiel had to narrow his eyes then, gaze going to Dean once more.

"Why, are you saying I'm ugly?"

"God no. You've just got that self pitying look in your eyes, and the whole "why isn't she here yet i'm gonna cry" sad puppy thing going."

"He." Castiel corrected.

Dean's eyebrows shot up then, afterwards giving a little nod. He was silent for a moment or so, but apparently couldn't keep the serious expression for long, a smirk making it's way onto his face.

"Sorry, he."

"What's that look for?"

"Oh, nothing too important. Just trying to think of how to convince you to be my date instead."

_Oh._ His cheeks had been pink earlier but now he was pretty sure they were flat out red.


End file.
